Читать книгу: «Jolly Sally Pendleton: or, the Wife Who Was Not a Wife», страница 10
CHAPTER XXXIV
Sally Pendleton and her mother watched their faces keenly.
The time is up. They open the inner door reluctantly. The two doctors, bending over their patient, look up with a smile.
"The heart still beats," they whisper. "He will live."
And this is the intelligence that is carried out to the young bride, the words breaking in upon her in the midst of her selfish calculations.
She did not love Jay Gardiner. Any genuine passion in her breast had been coolly nipped in the bud by his indifference, which had stung her to the quick.
She could not make him jealous. She knew that he would have been only too relieved if she had fallen in love with some one else, and had been taken off his hands.
He always treated her in a cool, lordly manner – a manner that always impressed her with his superiority. She was obliged to acknowledge him her master; she could never make him her slave.
And now he was to live, and she was his wife. She would share his magnificent home, all the grandeur that his position would bring to her. She had been brought up to regard money as the one aim of existence. Money she must have. She coveted power, and she was girl of the world enough to know that money meant power.
"Yes, he will live; but whether he will gain his full reasoning powers is a matter the future alone can decide," the doctors declare.
Two long months, and Doctor Gardiner is slowly convalescing. His young wife flits about the room, a veritable dream in her dainty lace-trimmed house-gowns, baby pink ribbons tying back her yellow curls. But he looks away from her toward the window with a weary sigh.
He has married her, and he tells himself over and over again, that he must make the best of it. But "making the best of it" is indeed a bitter pill, for she is not his style of woman.
During the time he has been convalescing, he has been studying her, and as one trait after another unfolds itself, he wonders how it will all end.
He sees she has a passionate craving for the admiration of men. She makes careful toilets in which to receive his friends when they call to inquire after his health; and last, but not least, she has taken to the wheel, and actually appears before him in bloomers.
What would his haughty old mother and his austere sister say when they learned this?
There had been quite an argument between the young husband and Sally on the day he received his mother's letter informing him of her return from abroad, and her intense amazement at his hasty marriage.
"I had always hoped to persuade you to let me pick out a wife for you, Jay, my darling son," she wrote. "I can only hope you have chosen wisely when you took the reins into your own hands. Come and make us a visit, and bring your wife with you. We are very anxious to meet her."
Sally frowned as he read the letter aloud.
Never in the world were two united who were so unsuited to each other. Why did the fates that are supposed to have the love affairs of mortals in charge, allow the wrong man to marry the wrong woman?
There was one thing over which Sally was exceedingly jubilant, and that was his loss of memory. That he had known such a person as Bernardine Moore, the old basket-maker's beautiful daughter, was entirely obliterated from his mind.
Some one had mentioned the great tenement-house fire in Jay Gardiner's presence, and the fact that quite a quaint character, a tipsy basket-maker, had lost his life therein, but the young doctor looked up without the slightest gleam of memory drifting through his brain. Not even when the person who was telling him the story went on to say that the great fire accomplished one good result, however, and that was the wiping out of the wine-house of Jasper Wilde & Son.
"Wilde – Jasper Wilde! It seems to me that I have heard that name before in connection with some unpleasant transaction," said Doctor Gardiner, slowly.
"Oh, no doubt. You've probably read the name in the papers connected with some street brawl. Jasper Wilde, the son, is a well-dressed tough."
"Before going to see your mother, why not spend a few weeks at Newport with Sally," suggested Mrs. Pendleton to the doctor. "You know she has not been away on her wedding-trip yet."
He laughed a dry, mirthless laugh.
"She can go if she likes," he replied. "I can endure it."
Mrs. Pendleton bit her lip to keep back the angry retort, but wisely made no reply.
"It will never do to have the least disagreement with my wealthy, haughty son-in-law, if I can help it," she said to herself. "Especially as my husband is in such sore straits, and may have to come to him for a loan any day."
The following week Jay Gardiner and his bride reached Newport. The season was at its height. Yachts crowded the harbor; the hotels were filled to overflowing; every one who intended going to Newport was there now, and all seemed carried away on the eddying current of pleasure.
Young Mrs. Gardiner —née the pretty Sally Pendleton – plunged into the vortex of pleasure, and if her greed for admiration was not satisfied with the attention she received, it never would be.
Young Mrs. Gardiner knew no restraint. Her society was everywhere sought after. She was courted in every direction, and she took it all as her just due, by virtue of her marriage with the handsome millionaire, whom all the married belles were envying her, sighing to one another:
"Oh! how handsome he is – how elegant! and what a lordly manner he has! But, best of all, he lets his wife do just as she pleases."
But the older and wiser ones shook their heads sagaciously, declaring they scented danger afar off.
Little did they dream that the terrible calamity was nearer than they had anticipated.
CHAPTER XXXV
Although, outwardly, young Mrs. Gardiner and her handsome husband lived ideal lives, yet could one have taken a peep behind the scenes, they would have seen that all was not gold that glittered.
In their own apartments, out of sight of the world's sharp eyes, Jay Gardiner and his wife used each other with the scantest possible courtesy. He never descended to the vulgarity of having words with her, though she did her utmost to provoke him to quarrel, saying to herself that anything was better than that dead calm, that haughty way he had of completely ignoring her in his elegant apartments.
During what every one believed to be the most blissful of honey-moons, Sally learned to hate her proud husband with a deadly hatred.
On the evening Mr. Victor Lamont made his appearance at the Ocean House, there was to be a grand ball given in honor of the guests, and, as every one had hoped, Mr. Lamont strolled in during the course of the evening, accompanied by mine host, who was over head and ears with delight in having such an honored guest stopping at his hotel.
Scores of girlish eyes brightened as they entered the arched door-way, and scores of hearts beat expectantly under pretty lace bodices. But their disappointment was great when this handsome Apollo glanced them all over critically, but did not ask any of them out to dance, and all the best waltzes were being then played.
Victor Lamont seemed quite indifferent to their shy glances.
During this time he was keeping up quite an animated conversation with his host, who was telling him, with pride, that this pretty girl was Miss This, and that pretty girl Miss So-and-So. But Victor Lamont would sooner have known who their fathers were.
At length, as his eyes traveled about the great ball-room with business-like carefulness, his gaze fell upon a slender figure in rose pink and fairly covered with diamonds. They blazed like ropes of fire about the white throat and on the slender arms; they twinkled like immense stars from the shell-like ears and coyly draped bosom, and rose in a great tiara over the highly piled blonde hair.
She was standing under a great palm-tree, its green branches forming just the background that was needed to perfect the dainty picture in pink.
She was surrounded as usual by a group of admirers. Victor Lamont's indifference vanished. He was interested at last.
"Who is the young lady under the palm directly opposite?" he asked, quickly.
"The belle of Newport," was the reply. "Shall I present you?"
"I should be delighted," was the quick response. Instantly rebellion rose in the heart of every girl in the room, and resentment showed in scores of flushed cheeks and angry eyes as the hero of the evening was led over to pretty Sally Gardiner.
No wonder they watched him with dismay. From the moment graceful Mr. Lamont was presented to her, he made no attempt to disguise how completely he was smitten by her.
"That is a delightful waltz," he said, bending over the little hand as the dance music struck up.
Sally bowed, and placed a dainty little hand lightly on his shoulder, his arm encircled the slender waist, and away they went whirling through the bewildering stretch of ball-room, a cloud of pink and flashing diamonds, the curly blonde head and the blonde, mustached face dangerously near each other.
CHAPTER XXXVI
If young Mrs. Gardiner heard the ominous whispers on all sides of her, regarding her open flirtation with handsome Victor Lamont, she did not heed them. She meant to show the haughty husband whom she had learned to hate with such a deadly hatred, that other men would show her attention.
The world owed her pleasure, a good time, and love by right of her youth and beauty, and she meant to have them at whatever cost.
Victor Lamont struck her fancy. He was gay, debonair, and was certainly in love with her; and, in open defiance of the consequences, she rushed madly on, in her quest of pleasure, toward the precipice covered with flowers that was yawning to receive her.
The beginning of the end came in a very strange way. One evening there was a grand hop at the Ocean House. It was one of the most brilliant affairs of the season. The magnificent ball-room was crowded to overflowing with beauty and fashion. Every one who was any one in all gay Newport was present. Jay Gardiner had been suddenly called away to attend to some very important business in Boston, and consequently would not be able to attend. But that made no difference about Sally's going; indeed, it was a relief to her to know that he would not be there.
It occasioned no surprise, even though comments of disapproval waged louder than ever, when the beautiful young Mrs. Gardiner, the married belle of the ball, entered, leaning upon Victor Lamont's arm.
Those who saw her whispered one to another that the reigning beauty of Newport quite surpassed herself to-night – that even the buds had better look to their laurels. The maids and the matrons, even the gentlemen, looked askance when they saw Victor Lamont and young Mrs. Gardiner dance every dance together, and the murmur of stern disapproval grew louder.
At last, the couple was missed from the ball-room altogether. Some one reported having seen them strolling up and down the beach in the moonlight. There was no mistaking the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome Englishman, and the trim, dainty little figure in fleecy white, with the ermine wrap thrown over the pretty plump shoulders and round neck, on which rare diamonds, that would have paid a king's ransom, gleamed fitfully whenever the sportive breeze tossed back the ermine wrap.
Victor Lamont's fickle fancy for his companion had been a short-lived one. Like all male flirts, he soon tired of his conquests, and longed for new fields and new faces. He was considering this matter, when he received a letter that set him thinking. It was from his boon companion, Egremont, who was doing Long Branch.
There were four pages, written in cipher, which only Lamont could understand. The last one read as follows:
"Report has it that you are head and ears in love with a married beauty, and are carrying on a very open flirtation. Egad! my boy, that will never do. You have no time to waste in sentiment over other men's wives. You went to Newport with the avowed intention of capturing an heiress – some widow's daughter.
"You know how we stand as regards money. Money we must get somehow, some way —any way. We must realize five thousand dollars to save Hal, between now and this day week. It remains for you to think of some way to obtain it. If Hal peached on us, we would go up along with him, so, you see, the money must be raised somehow.
"My fall on the day I landed here, laying me up with a sprained ankle, was an unfortunate affair, for it prevented me from making the harvest we counted on. So everything falls on your shoulders.
"You must have learned by this time who is who, and where they keep their jewels and pocket-books. If I am able to get about, I will run over to see you on Saturday next. Two or three of our friends will accompany me.
"Yours in haste,"Egremont."
The day appointed saw three men alight from the early morning train. They had occupied different cars, and swung off onto the platform from different places. But the old policeman, who had done duty at the station of the famous watering-place for nearly two decades, noted them at once with his keen, experienced eye.
"A trio of crooks," he muttered, looking after them. "I can tell it from their shifting glances and hitching gait, as though they never could break from the habit of the lock-step; I will keep my eye on them."
Although the three men went to different hotels, they had been scarcely an hour in Newport before they all assembled in the room of the man who had written to Lamont, signing himself Egremont.
"It is deuced strange Victor doesn't come," he said, impatiently. "He must have received both my letter and telegram."
At that moment there was a step outside, the door opened, and Victor Lamont, the subject of their conversation, strode into the apartment.
"It was a mighty risky step, pals, for you to come to Newport, and, above all, to expect me to keep this appointment with you to-day!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Didn't you know that?"
And with that he pulled the door to after him with a bang.
It was nearly two hours ere Victor Lamont, with his hat pulled down over his eyes, quitted the hostelry and his companions, and then he went by a side entrance, first glancing quickly up and down the street to note if there was any one about who would be apt to recognize him.
The coast being apparently clear, he stepped out into the street, walked rapidly away, and turned the nearest corner.
"If it could be done!" he muttered, under his breath. "The chance is a desperate one, but, as Egremont says, we must raise money somehow. Well, it's a pretty daring scheme; but I am in for it, if the pretty little beauty can be induced to stroll on the beach to-night."
Night had come, and to Victor Lamont's great delight, he received a pretty, cream-tinted, sweet-scented, monogrammed note from Sally Gardiner, saying that she would be pleased to accept his escort that evening, and would meet him in the reception-room an hour later.
Lamont's eyes sparkled with joy as he saw her, for she was resplendent in a dream of white lace, and wore all her magnificent diamonds.
He was obliged to promenade and dance with her for an hour or so, although he knew his companions would be waiting with the utmost impatience on the shore.
When he proposed the stroll, he looked at her keenly, his lips apart, intense eagerness in his voice.
To his great relief, she acquiesced at once.
"Though," she added, laughingly, "I do not suppose it would be as safe to wear all my diamonds on the beach as it would be if we just promenaded the piazza."
"It would be a thousand times more romantic," he whispered, his glance thrilling her through and through, his hand tightening over the little one resting on his arm.
And so, as the moth follows the flickering, dancing flame, foolish Sally Gardiner, without a thought of danger, took the arm of the handsome stranger whom she had known but a few short weeks, and sauntered out upon the beach with him.
There were hundreds of promenaders, and no one noticed them particularly.
On and on they walked, Lamont whispering soft, sweet nothings into her foolish ears, until they had left most of the throng far behind them.
"Hack, sir! – hack to ride up and down the beach!" exclaimed a man, stopping a pair of mettlesome horses almost directly in front of them.
Victor Lamont appeared to hesitate an instant; but in that instant he and the driver had exchanged meaning glances.
"Shall we not ride up and down, instead of walking?" suggested Lamont, eagerly. "I – I have something to tell you, and I may never have such an opportunity again. We can ride down as far as the light-house on the point, and back. Do not refuse me so slight a favor, I beg of you."
If she had stopped to consider, even for one instant, she would have declined the invitation; but, almost before she had decided whether she should say yes or no, Victor Lamont had lifted her in his strong arms, placed her in the cab, and sprung in after her.
Pretty, jolly Sally Gardiner looked a trifle embarrassed.
"Oh, how imprudent, Mr. Lamont!" she cried, clinging to his arm, as the full consciousness of the situation seemed to occur to her. "We had better get out, and walk back to the Ocean House."
But it was too late for objections. The driver had already whipped up his horses, and instead of creeping wearily along, after the fashion of tired hack horses, they flew down the beach like the wind.
"Oh, Mrs. Gardiner – Sally!" cried Victor Lamont, in a voice apparently husky with emotion, "the memory of this ride will be with me while life lasts!"
Victor Lamont's voice died away in a hoarse whisper; the hand which caught and held her own closed tighter over it, and the hoarse murmur of the sea seemed further and further away.
Sally Gardiner seemed only conscious of one thing – that Victor Lamont loved her.
CHAPTER XXXVII
For a moment the words falling so passionately from the lips of the handsome man sitting beside her, the spell of the moonlight, and the murmur of the waves, seemed to lock her senses in a delicious dream. But the dream lasted only a moment. In the next, she had recovered herself.
"Oh, Mr. Lamont, we must – we must get right out and walk back to the hotel! What if any one should see us riding together? Jay would be sure to hear of it, and there would be trouble in store for both of us."
"It is all in a life-time," he murmured. "Can you not be happy here with me – "
But she broke away from his detaining hand in alarm. She had been guilty of an imprudent flirtation; but she had meant nothing more. She had drifted into this delusive friendship and companionship without so much as bothering her pretty golden head about how it would end. Now she was just beginning to see how foolish she had been – when this handsome stranger could be nothing to her – nothing.
"We must not ride any further," she declared. "Give orders for the coach to stop right here, Mr. Lamont."
"It is too late, dear lady," he gasped. "The horses are running away! For God's sake, don't attempt to scream or to jump, or you will be killed!"
With a wild sob of terror, Sally flung herself down on her knees, and the lips that had never yet said, "God be praised," cried "God be merciful!"
"Don't make such a confounded noise!" exclaimed Lamont, attempting to lift her again to the seat beside him. "We won't get hurt if you only keep quiet. The driver is doing his best to get control of the horses. They can't keep up this mad pace much longer, and will be obliged to stop from sheer exhaustion."
After what appeared to be an age to the terrified young woman crouching there in such utter fright, the vehicle stopped short with a sharp thud and a lurch forward that would have thrown Sally upon her face, had not her companion reached forward and caught her.
"Well, driver," called out Lamont, as he thrust open the door and looked out, "here's a pretty go, isn't it? Turn right around, and go back as quickly as your horses can take us!"
"I am awfully sorry to say that I won't be able to obey your order, sir," replied the man on the box, with a slight cough. "We've had an accident. The horses are dead lame, and we've had a serious break-down, and that, too, when we are over thirty miles from Newport. Confound the luck!"
Sally had been listening to this conversation, and as the driver's words fell on her ears, she was filled with consternation and alarm. Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her eyes nearly jumped from their sockets.
Miles away from the Ocean House, and she in those white kid slippers! How in the name of Heaven was she to get back? Jay Gardiner would return on the midnight train, and when he found she was not there, he would institute a search for her, and some one of the scouting party would find her in that broken-down coach by the road-side, with Victor Lamont as her companion.
She dared not think what would happen then. Perhaps there would be a duel; perhaps, in his anger, Jay Gardiner might turn his weapon upon herself. And she sobbed out in still wilder affright as she pictured the scene in her mind.
"There is but one thing to be done. You will have to ride one of your horses back to Newport, and bring out a team to fetch us back," declared Victor Lamont, with well-simulated impatience and anger.
"That I could do, sir," replied the man, "and you and the lady could make yourselves as comfortable as possible in the coach."
"Bring back some vehicle to get us into Newport before midnight, and I'll give you the price of your horse," cried Victor Lamont in an apparently eager voice.
"All right, sir," replied the driver. "I'll do my best."
And in a trice he was off, as Sally supposed, on his mission. She had listened, with chattering teeth, to all that had been said.
"Oh, goodness gracious! Mr. Lamont," she asked, "why are you peering out of the coach window? Do you see – or hear – anybody?"
He did not attempt to take her hand or talk sentimental nonsense to her now. That was not part of the business he had before him.
"Do not be unnecessarily frightened," he murmured; "but I fancied – mind, I only say fancied – that I heard cautious footsteps creeping over the fallen leaves. Perhaps it was a rabbit, you know – a stray dog, or mischievous squirrel."
Sally was clutching at his arm in wild affright.
"I – I heard the same noise, too!" she cried, with bated breath, "and, oh! Mr. Lamont, it did sound like a footstep creeping cautiously toward us! I was just about to speak to you of it."
Five, ten minutes passed in utter silence. Victor Lamont made no effort to talk to her. This was one of the times when talking sentiment would not have been diplomatic.
"Oh, Mr. Lamont!" cried Sally, clinging to him in the greatest terror, "I am sure we both could not have been mistaken. There is some one skulking about under the shadow of those trees – one – two – three – persons; I see them distinctly."
"You are right," he whispered, catching her trembling, death-cold hands in his, and adding, with a groan of despair: "Heaven help us! what can we do? Without a weapon of any kind, I am no match for a trio of desperadoes!"
Young Mrs. Gardiner was too terrified to reply. She could not have uttered a word if her life had depended upon it.
At that instant the vehicle was surrounded by three masked figures. The light from a bull's-eye lantern was flashed in Sally's face as the door was thrown violently back, and a harsh voice cried out, as a rough hand grasped her:
"Just hand over those jewels, lady, and be nimble, too, or we'll tear 'em off you! Egg, you relieve the gent of his money and valuables."
"Help! help! help!" cried Sally, struggling frantically; but the man who had hold of her arm only laughed, declaring she had a good pair of lungs.
Victor Lamont made a pretense of making a valiant struggle to come to her rescue. But what could he do, with two revolvers held close to his head, but stand and deliver.
Then the magnificent Gardiner diamonds, with their slender golden fastenings, were torn from her, and were soon pocketed by the desperado, who had turned a revolver upon her.
"Thanks, and good-bye, fair lady," laughed the trio, retreating.
But Sally had not heard. She had fallen back on the seat of the coach in a dead faint.
